Jiang Yuanlin could not resist coaxing Wen-ge’er into telling him Journey to the West two more times. The more he heard, the more astonished he became, and he could not help but feel a prickle of curiosity: Would that monkey eventually succeed in finding a master? Was there any immortal who would actually be willing to teach a monkey?
“He said to go again when you have time?” Looking at Wen-ge’er, he asked with some anticipation, “So, are you going again tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Jiang Sanwen gave his little head a vigorous nod. “Old Shen is going to continue telling the rest of it.”
“Old Shen…” Having heard “Old Shen” countless times tonight, Jiang Yuanlin felt as if his ears had gone numb. He was utterly bewildered—how could that famous scholar, Shen, actually allow someone to call him “Old Shen”? It was custom in the Great Yin Dynasty that, unless one was an extremely close friend, no famous scholar would ever let others address them so casually.
That famous scholar, Shen, had always been arrogant. Let alone Wen-ge’er, even he—a local physician—had never been granted a direct glance by that man. The last time he took the man’s pulse, the moment he withdrew his hand, the man had ordered his maid to wipe the wrist he had touched… If it were not for the sake of the Prince, he would have stuck a silver needle into him right then and there to teach him a lesson. Yet, this sour and arrogant scholar had somehow become “Old Shen” in Wen-ge’er’s mouth. For a moment, Jiang Yuanlin felt that the man might have gone a bit mad.
Inside Qiyu Courtyard, Shen Shangling sneezed and rubbed his face. He carefully picked up the paper filled with writing to look it over, pondering how he could get his hands on the necessary materials. Fortunately, Lu Xiao had not returned yet, and the entire Prince’s residence still held him in high regard; basically, whatever he asked for, the residence could provide.
Lard, lye, and perhaps some spices or herbs to add a scent. Lard was easy; as for lye, he wasn’t sure if there was lime here, but if not, wood ash would work. Having a plan in mind, and feeling quite relieved after chatting with Jiang Sanwen that afternoon, Shen Shangling slept exceptionally well that night. When he opened his eyes, the sky was already bright.
It was another beautiful sunny day. In the climate of the Great Yin capital, the late spring cold had passed, and the warm breeze seemed to blow through the entire city, with temperatures climbing almost in a straight line. Just a few days ago, he was still wearing a cloak, but now it was so hot that he felt no cold even wearing just his undergarments in the early morning, let alone needing a charcoal brazier.
When he got up to wash, looking at the hawksbill turtle shell piece used for brushing teeth, he still admired the wisdom of the ancients. In the Great Yin, there were no toothbrushes, but wealthy families typically used finely polished pieces of beautiful material, bound with thin hemp fibers or the like, to make something slightly coarse yet soft. They would then dip it into a paste made of medicinal herbs that cleared heat and detoxified, using it to clean their teeth daily. However, this was limited to the rich. Ordinary people, such as maids in the Prince’s residence like Yutao, simply used a bamboo strip and some random grinding paste to scrub and rinse.
Shen Shangling was, of course, not used to this way of brushing teeth. He pondered creating a simple toothbrush later, otherwise, every time he scrubbed hard, he felt as if his gums were about to tear. He didn’t call Yutao or the others in to help him tie his hair this time. Once he understood the method of wearing the hair crown, tying his hair was an easy task for him; his hands had always been quite nimble, and he had even kept long hair when he was in college. Never mind tying hair and wearing a crown—even braiding a few small plaits was second nature to him.
While getting ready for breakfast, he called Yutao over and told her that he needed a few items, instructing her to speak to the steward of the residence. When Yutao heard this, a flash of realization crossed her eyes: It’s here. Just as expected, Young Master Shen had been quiet and not picky for only one day… and here he goes again. She feared that he was dissatisfied with something else—either he wanted expensive silk clothing, or he was pointing at the new high-quality paper, ink, and pigments from the Wenhanshai shop in the capital… In short, she worried the residence would surely have to spend more silver.
But after Shen Shangling listed the items he needed one by one, Yutao was completely stunned: Pig… lard? Lime… wood… ash? Yutao suspected there was something wrong with her ears. Seeing Shen Shangling’s firm expression, Yutao cautiously repeated the list once more to confirm, and just as she was about to withdraw, full of confusion, she heard Shen Shangling call her back. Yutao thought to herself that there was surely something else. But she was stunned again: Shen Shangling wanted a few new outfits, but they were not to be made of expensive materials. He only said to choose ordinary fabric and specifically instructed that he did not want a scholar’s robe with wide sleeves, asking only for narrow sleeves convenient for working… This was truly strange.
Shen Shangling ignored the shifting emotions in Yutao’s eyes. Once he finished telling her everything he needed, he dismissed her: He had to take advantage of the fact that it was easy to get supplies right now and quickly make that soap. Otherwise, once Lu Xiao returned, he feared he wouldn’t have the patience to let him experiment repeatedly. If he couldn’t make it on the first try, Lu Xiao might just have him dragged away. At this thought, Shen Shangling couldn’t help but shiver.
While the residence prepared his supplies, Shen Shangling did not remain idle. Jiang Sanwen had run over early in the morning and, waiting eagerly for him to finish breakfast, sat obediently by his side, waiting for him to continue Journey to the West. Shen Shangling kept his promise and told him another section, from the Monkey King finding a master all the way to obtaining the Golden Cudgel from the Dragon Palace. This part excited the little brat to no end:
“Seventy-two transformations?” “Somersault Cloud? One hundred and eight thousand li?” “The Dragon Palace has a needle that calms the sea? Oh my, it’s that heavy?”
Jiang Sanwen was so excited he could barely sit still, standing up and sitting back down, gesticulating with a flushed face.
Shen Shangling: “…” Children in this era are truly lonely.
Urging Jiang Sanwen to drink two more cups of water, Shen Shangling spoke up again. However, he didn’t continue the story. Instead, using this segment of the story, he began to lecture the little fellow on principles: partly to take the opportunity to educate the child, and partly because he feared that Physician Jiang’s sharp tongue would lash out at him for bringing monsters and demons into the boy’s life to corrupt him… He needed to make the little one understand some principles and learn something useful.
Fortunately, Jiang Sanwen was very well-behaved—so well-behaved that Shen Shangling wished he could give him a little red star. When listening to his lecture, the boy was very earnest, and the way he looked at him became increasingly convinced and respectful.
“Old Shen,” after Shen Shangling finished, Jiang Sanwen nodded seriously in a very mature manner. “I understand now. Sun Wukong’s abilities were obtained because he risked his life to cross the ocean in hardship, and he attained such magical skills only through such bitter training’ One must endure the bitterness of suffering to become the master of others!'”
Shen Shangling: “…Well, that’s quite good.” A child this small is already speaking like a little adult; are ancient people always this precocious?
After teaching the child, Shen Shangling told him to come back tomorrow if he wanted to hear more of the story. Mainly, once the supplies were all here, he would have to start working, and he certainly couldn’t have a child around asking this and that. Upon hearing this, disappointment filled Jiang Sanwen’s little face. Unwilling to give up, he asked eagerly: “Old Shen, can I not come back today?”
Shen Shangling’s heart softened, but after a moment of thought, he didn’t give in. Instead, he made an excuse: “Sun Wukong wants to practice his skills, so should Wen-ge’er not practice his own? When you go back, shouldn’t you practice your calligraphy? Come tomorrow, and I will take a look at a piece of your writing.” Giving some homework—yes, a good excuse.
Sure enough, Jiang Sanwen was startled at first, then frantically nodded his little head: “Yes, yes, Old Shen! If I don’t write well, will you teach me when I come tomorrow?”
Shen Shangling: “…” He really had no face to say he would teach the child calligraphy; his own brush writing was still a mess.
After finally coaxing Jiang Sanwen away, by noon, the residence finally sent over the things he wanted. Shen Shangling was very satisfied. The quantity he requested was not small, mainly because he feared he wouldn’t succeed on the first try and might need to test several times. The clothes he asked for had not arrived yet; Yutao said they would likely be ready and delivered by tomorrow. Shen Shangling had no choice but to wrap the sleeves of the large robe he was currently wearing with a silk ribbon to keep them out of the way, then dismissed Yutao and the others, instructing them not to come over unless necessary.
Once prepared, he began to try making the soap. Because he didn’t want to find help for his “technical patent,” Shen Shangling busied himself for half the day, even keeping his lunch and dinner simple. Fortunately, by the time the lamps were lit, his soap was finally looking better and better after repeated attempts.
For the next few days, he didn’t go out, spending his days refining the quality to make the soap look better. During this time, Jiang Sanwen would come every day, and each time he would tell another segment of Journey to the West. He would also comment on Jiang Sanwen’s calligraphy in a serious manner each time, praising and encouraging him, which excited the little brat so much that he voluntarily increased his practice from one sheet of calligraphy to two.
Shen Shangling: “…” There was really no need to be that diligent.
Finally, on the eighth day, looking at the batch of soaps he had just made, Shen Shangling felt his nose ache with emotion: Beautiful. It was, of course, incomparable to the soap from his original world, but he was already very satisfied. It was slightly lustrous and emitted a fragrance. That night, he used the freshly made soap to bathe and wash his hair, and once finished, he felt delightfully fragrant—the long-lost scent of soap.
The nighttime temperature was slightly lower than during the day, but it was not cold at all. After bathing, while shuffling in his slippers and wiping his hair, Shen Shangling suddenly heard a “bang,” as if someone had slammed the door open.
“Who?” He was startled, thinking it was Yutao or one of the others who had tripped. “Who fell?”
As he spoke, he turned around the screen while wiping his hair. Seeing the cold, tall figure standing in the lamplight at the doorway, Shen Shangling felt a chill shoot from the soles of his feet up his spine: It was Lu Xiao.
Lu Xiao had actually returned? He thought it would take several more days, yet he had returned already?
Shen Shangling froze completely. He felt instantly enveloped by an aura of death being crushed upon him, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe, holding it in until he started coughing violently: “Cough, cough, cough”
He was truly scared to death. This Lu Xiao is like a ghost; he doesn’t feel like a living person at all.
The night he first met Lu Xiao, his first reaction had been that this man was tall and handsome… But right now, he only felt that this man had seemingly become a malicious ghost in human skin overnight.